It's in the Blood
by Rydia Asuka
Summary: Richard struggles with increasing blackouts and the stress of a life he never wanted. Asbel struggles with a new job, sent almost immediately on a hunt for one of the city's most notorious criminals. Asbel wishes to protect his city and friends, among them, Richard. Richard seeks only peace for himself. Can they reconcile these goals that so drastically conflict with their lives?
1. Prologue

**It's in the Blood**

**Disclaimer:**I do not own _Tales of Graces f_. All affiliated characters are property of Bandai-Namco. No copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.

* * *

Blood. It was blood.

_It was blood…!_

He pressed back into—a chair? A chair. He grasped at the cushion.

Two voices. There had been _two_ voices, now there was only one… A scream, then one voice gone. What did that mean? He sobbed dryly, clutching the cushion tightly in one shaking hand.

He was not crying. He was too shocked to cry.

A loud bang. He jumped violently.

He shrank back further, all but crawling under the chair.

A groan.

The blood trickled closer.

A man crawled into view.

Blood. He was covered in blood.

The second voice appeared behind the man.

Another bang.

Darkness.

* * *

Richard Windor scrubbed frantically at his hands. The seventeen-year-old choked a soft sob, confusion riddling the features that stared back at him in the mirror. He scrubbed harder, frantic to get his hands clean. He didn't understand why they were dirty.

Why they were _bloody_.

He sobbed harder, tears trickling down his cheek to leave a ruddy trail in the coppery stain on his right cheek. He raised a hand, wiping at it. Blood flaked off, smearing across the back of his hand and leaving a trail of suds on his cheek. He wiped them away with the back of his torn sleeve.

A sound behind him made him jump like a doused cat, spinning in midair.

The door to the bathroom was still shut. Breathing heavily, he returned to scrubbing his hands clean.

_Why were they bloody_?!

Water splashed down the front of his shirt; there was blood on it. He tore it off, throwing it aside with a horrified, strangled cry. Blood. Blood, again, blood!

He stepped back from the sink. The faucet continued to hum, water gushing forth as he backed up, back thumping into the wall. His legs gave out and he sank to the floor on noodle-like limbs. Shoulders sagged and he bent forward, forehead hitting his knee.

And he cried.

* * *

"Where were you last night?"

The nineteen-year-old stood straight and defiant under his uncle's critical glare. He did not answer the question.

"Dammit, boy! Don't ignore me!" Cedric's lips were curled back in a furious scowl.

"I do not owe you an answer," Richard replied coolly, keeping his head up and purposely _not_ looking at the man before him.

"You don't…" Cedric leapt to his feet. "Look, boy, I took you in, I _raised_ you! You _do _owe me!"

"I am a legal adult, uncle. I do not."

"Bah!" Cedric threw his hands up. "You're more trouble than you're worth! Get out of my sight and pray I don't disinherit you."

"The thought is almost a relief." He turned and stalked away. He managed to duck through the doorway a split-second before he heard the shatter of expensive crystal hit where he had been standing a moment before. Taking a steadying breath, he turned and hurried away.

…the truth was, he had not answered his uncle because he did not _remember_ where he had been.

* * *

The minister droned on. Richard sat quietly in the front, staring ahead but not seeing. At twenty-one, he was now the legal head of the Windor estate. Within the day, his uncle would be six feet under and no longer able to threaten and coerce him. He was dead, and that was that.

He did not care if they never caught the man's murderer.

* * *

Richard's head throbbed. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed at his temples. He had blacked out again last night. The instances had been getting worse since his uncle died three years before, but the doctors could not find any cause. They cautioned him about stress and told him to take it easy.

And, well, he _was_ stressed. Taking over the estate meant taking over the family business.

Family business…that was one way of putting it.

His uncle had been a mafia boss, probably the most powerful in the city, and being head of the estate…meant taking over that. He was not cut out for it…and his enemies knew that. He lived every day terrified for his life. He had to seize control…or die.

But he _hated_ the business. He had never killed anyone, but people _had_ died because of him. He felt crushing guilt with each realisation of that fact.

But he did not want to die.

But he was not ruthless enough for this.

He slumped forward, head pounding as he rested it on his folded arms, blocking out the light. Not that there was a lot of that; he had shut off the light an hour ago, when the first twinges of the migraine had begun.

Why could life not be simple?

* * *

_Hello, Friends! I hope you enjoyed the prologue! If you did (or even if you didn't), I'd love to hear from you! Thanks for reading! n.n_


	2. Family Ties

_For Richass Week._

_Happy Nipants? I did a thing.  
_

_Big thank yous to Kirvee, for help with Pascal's dialogue, and Hiki, for betaing! And, of course, Nipants, without whom this story wouldn't be happening. And to everyone who encouraged me to get this out. Y'all rock. _

* * *

"Papa!"

Asbel grinned, bending down to wrap his arms around his six-year-old daughter. Scooping her up, he laughed out loud and spun around, the youngster grinning excitedly. Sophie was the light of his life.

"How was your day?" he asked, carrying her inside with a quick nod to his mother as he passed.

"Good, Papa. Me'n'Gran'ma had tea party."

"Grandma and I," he corrected gently—and when, exactly, had he become a stickler for grammar? Easy, when his two-year-old daughter had started speaking. "Did you serve Grandma yourself?"

"Noooo! Was a princess." The little one nodded emphatically. "Princess."

Sophie kept talking, outlining her day, though Asbel was only half listening as his mother poked her nose inside. Smiling to her, he nodded once. He had things here.

Meeting his smile, Kerri called out, "I'm leaving, Sophie. Come say goodbye."

"Go on," he encouraged, setting the little one down. "Give Grandma a big kiss for me."

Dutifully, Sophie ran over to her grandmother. Standing on her tiptoes, she waited until Kerri had leaned down, smooching the older woman on the cheek once she was in range. Chuckling, she pulled back. "Daddy too."

Shaking his head fondly, Asbel walked over and leaned down, pecking his mother on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom. Drive safely."

"I will. You two have a good evening, now."

"We'll try," Asbel grinned.

"Now don't forget, we're having dinner with your brother and Pascal tomorrow night."

"Seven at Guy's. We'll be there."

Kerri nodded, bending down to address Sophie. "As lady of the house, I expect you to make sure your daddy is on time."

The little one nodded, making an x-shape over her chest. "Cross my heart, Gran'ma!"

"Good." Kerri ruffled Sophie's hair. "I'm counting on you." With that, she smiled back at them once more before slipping from the house. Sophie raced onto the porch, waving frantically.

"Bye-bye, Gran'ma!"

"Bye, Sophie! I'll see you tomorrow, Sweetie!"

Chuckling from the door, he beckoned for his daughter to follow him back inside. They had a few hours to spend together before her bedtime, and he intended to make good use of that time. He had been held over at work a lot lately, and it was a relief to finally have some time to spend with Sophie. Being a single parent raising a young child was not easy.

Especially not when one worked for the police force. His department was overworked lately, too, struggling with a seemingly impossible case. He was lucky his mother was always willing to watch Sophie for him, otherwise…well, he honestly had no idea what he would do.

"Did you and Grandma have supper already?"

Sophie nodded, stating emphatically, "Cae too."

As if on cue, their calico wandered into room, undulating between Asbel's legs with a soft mewl. Asbel chuckled. "I think Caeli has another opinion on the matter."

Sophie bent down, petting the cat's thick fur. "Papa eat?"

"I will if you two saved me anything," he said, heading for the kitchen to check for the plate he knew his mother would have set aside for him.

A showing of _Oliver and Company _saw them through Asbel's supper, Sophie curled up against him on the sofa as they watched the film together. Sophie got understandably upset as she feared for little Oliver's life, calling frantically for Caeli to ensure the safety of her own cat as a crying Penny held the animated, tabby kitten.

With the movie's conclusion, he escorted his daughter to bed, tucking her in once she had brushed her teeth and changed. "I love you, Sweetie. Sleep well."

"You too, Papa." Reaching up, the little girl gave Asbel a hug, before drawing back and cupping a hand over his nose.

"What was that for?"

"Papa gets lots of hugs everywhere! His nose deserves a hug, too."

Dumbfounded, the auburn-haired man stared at his daughter, before smiling warmly and returning the gesture. "A hug for Sophie's nose, too."

"Night, Papa," she said once they had parted. "Sleep well, too. Love you."

He paused at the door, turning back to flick the light off. "I love you too, Sweetie. So much. Now get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."

Closing the door behind him, Asbel paused in the hallway for a moment, listening for any telltale signs of a young child slipping out of bed. As usual, there were none. Sophie, it often seemed, did not have a disobedient bone in her body. Smiling to himself, Asbel headed to his own room across the hall.

Getting ready for bed himself, he crawled in, settling down to watch television for a few hours. He dozed off at some point, and was awakened by the blaring ringtone of his cellphone. Reaching out blearily, he grasped around for the offending object. Grabbing it, he slid the lock off, mumbling a sleepy greeting into the mouthpiece.

He jumped when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling the phone away, he stared at it, disoriented. The ring sounded again, this time, however, he realised the sound was coming from the floor. Half-climbing, half-falling out of bed, he staggered to his shed pants and fumbled through the pockets, eventually tugging out the second phone.

Sliding off the lock on his work phone, he held it to his ear. "'lo?"

"_It's about time you answered, Brother. I was starting to think you were ignoring me."_

"Hubert? What time is it?"

"_It's just after two,"_ his little brother admitted, _"I'm sorry to wake you, Brother, but…"_

He woke up swiftly at Hubert's tone. "What happened?"

"_Corner of fifth and main, that little pub? Someone found two bodies in the dumpster out back."_

Asbel clicked his tongue at that, frowning. "You think it was—?"

"_Reasonable suspicion, yes. Preliminary investigation tells us that it's the right signature."_

"Alright. I'm coming. I'll be there soon."

"_See you soon, Brother. Be safe."_

"I will. And you too, Hubert. See you."

* * *

Hanging up the phone, Asbel dropped back to his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Sighing, he sucked in several deep breaths before standing and moving to pull on his uniform. Dressed, he went into Sophie's room. Scooping the sleeping girl up, he headed for the car. Setting her into her booster seat, Asbel fumbled for the seatbelt, eventually snapping it into place while somehow managing not to wake his daughter as he did so. From there, it was just a short drive to his mother's house.

Letting himself in, he settled the still-sleeping child into the room that had once belonged to him and his brother. Tucking her into the bed, he crept over to his mother's room. Knocking, he poked his head in, meeting his mother's bleary gaze. She nodded once, and Asbel pulled back, hurrying back to his car.

It was going to be a long night.

Hubert had felt the beginning stabs of a nasty headache coming on before he had even called his brother, and by the time he had hung up, it was in full swing. Rubbing his temples, Hubert stepped back into the alley, where a scene of organised chaos greeted him. To think that his first stunt as inspector supervisor would be on a case like this.

Officers bustled about, photographing the scene in detail, while coroners waited to retrieve the bodies as soon as the photographers and cataloguers were done. There was a smell in the air, hinting that the bodies were probably not all that new, though it was hard to tell when combined with the scent of rotting trash.

Hubert slipped under the police tape, nodding to one of the officers as he did so. Nearby, a woman was leaning over the dumpster, frowning.

"Fourier?" Hubert asked, stepping up alongside the entomologist.

"Just thinking that this is going to make my job harder, Hubert," Fourier admitted, shrugging as she stepped back. "Rodents have been at the bodies, and who knows what sorts of crap they've been into or what they're carrying."

"You didn't take this job because it would be easy, did you?"

The woman pulled back slightly, brow furrowing. "Wha—no, of course not. This one is going to be a challenge, though. Bigger than usual."

Hubert clapped his sister-in-law on the shoulder. "Well, get it done. If anyone can, it's you."

Fourier chuckled, nodding. "Naturally. Maybe this time we can get these guys and put an end to this case."

If only life could be so simple.

"Sergeant!"

Looking up, Hubert nodded to the woman who had addressed him, an Officer Jenkins. "What is it?"

"I have the preliminary report from forensics, Sir."

"Thank you," he said, accepting the document and dismissing Jenkins with a second nod. Glancing down at the pages before him, he sighed at the sight of his wife's messy scrawl covering the paper. Resigning himself to a few long minutes of deciphering what he had come to accept as her personal code, Hubert bid farewell to Fourier and made his way over to his nearby car, leaning against it.

He perused the document, taking mental note of each of his wife's comments. Pascal was thorough, if nothing else, and also smart and unbelievably sharp. He had learned the hard way what underestimating her would get him. He had never dared do so again.

Well, ultimately it seemed that the evidence all pointed to what he had both suspected and feared. What really got to him, however, was the estimated time of death. They could not know more until the autopsy reports came back, but Pascal's team's best guess was that the deaths had occurred last night. How nobody had _found_ the bodies before then…well, that was a troubling thought. It was not like this was a dump site in the middle of a forest, or something. This was a public, actively travelled road!

His headache was getting worse.

"Hubert!"

Asbel. Straightening, Hubert waved his older brother over, passing the report over the moment Asbel was in range.

"What's the verdict so far?" Asbel asked, immediately looking down to scan the papers. "I mean, do you think it's—obviously," Asbel cut himself off, "we wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

"Exactly," Hubert agreed, nodding. "It's definitely the same signature, and the evidence still points to the Windors."

Asbel frowned at that, and Hubert found himself matching the expression. "I just…don't buy it, Hubert. It seems too easy. And—"

"Let it go, Brother. Your personal feelings have no place in this."

"I know, Hubert, it's just…I know Richard. I don't think he could do this."

"Brother…"

"No, Hubert. He's—you've met him, too!"

"Meeting for two weeks at a summer camp when we were children does not constitute knowing him now. It has been nearly twenty years, Brother. You need to accept that."

Asbel sighed audibly. "Maybe…but I still…"

Hubert stepped forward, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I've offered before, and I will again: Do you want to be taken off this case?"

As before, Asbel shook his head vehemently. "No. He…needs someone who believes in him."

"Very well. But do not let your personal feelings cloud your judgement in this. The evidence still points to that family, and he is the only known heir."

Asbel nodded gloomily. "I know, but—"

"No buts. The activity within that circle has _not_ stopped in the past eight years. People change, Brother."

This time, Asbel merely nodded. Good, at least his brother was listening. Truthfully, Hubert _wanted _Asbel to be right, but logic dictated that Richard Windor maintained a heavy hand in the criminal underworld. So did the evidence. If Richard was not involved, then why had the activity surrounding that family not ceased following the death of Cedric Windor eight years ago? It had hardly even slowed. Logic dictated that someone had kept control of the circle and kept it going. As the only heir, logic also dictated that that someone was most likely Richard.

Most likely, but not…not definitely, and it was for that reason that Hubert _did_ want his older brother working this case with him. One needed to examine every angle if one was to find the truth, and Asbel provided a different angle, here.

"Let's just get to work," Asbel finally said, snapping the portfolio closed and heading towards the crime scene. Hubert followed.

* * *

It was just after sunrise when the Lhants finally got away from work for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. With the Chief of Police all but chasing them off, and telling them not to return until they had at _least_ had lunch, Asbel and Hubert mutually agreed to head to a local café for breakfast before heading home.

Shaking off the rumpled jacket to his uniform, Asbel slid into one of the chairs and dropped his head onto his folded arms. Nobody said anything as the waitress poured them coffee, then headed off to place their orders—she knew what they wanted by now. This was not an unusual sight in the mornings.

"I'm getting too old for these all-nighters," Asbel groaned, glancing down at his watch. Seven-seventeen. He groaned a second time. "This is why I go to bed with my daughter."

His little brother snorted dryly, but otherwise did not comment. The same could not be said for his gregarious wife. "Aw, maybe it's time t'hang up the badge then, Asbel," Pascal teased. "Leave the hard stuff t'us younger folk."

"You're older than I am," Asbel jabbed back, looking up with a small frown.

"Yep, but still young at heart!" Pascal cheered, grinning.

Hubert scoffed, though Asbel could see his brother fighting back a smile. He could also see a sharp retort all but forming on Hubert's lips, but at that moment, Asbel happened to glance past his brother.

Another young man was seated behind Hubert, watching them with a tired expression, his eyes fixed on Pascal. Brow furrowing, Asbel stared on intently as his lips turned down in a slight frown. What was it…?

"Brother?" he dimly heard Hubert ask, and in that moment the blond stranger turned to him. Their eyes met, and Asbel stiffened.

_Richard…?_


End file.
